The Duel
by Demus
Summary: After the Black Pearl fiasco Will Turner is triumphant, James Norrington the jilted suitor harbouring thoughts of terrible revenge. Well, that's how Port Royal sees it. Norrington and Will decide to disprove these allegations once and for all. Complete
1. The Plan

This idea has been buzzing around for a while. It takes place a couple of weeks after the Black Pearl fiasco and is entirely set in Port Royal. I know Norrington was supposed to set off after Jack the day after, but I think he might have had paperwork and explanations to do. Whatever you think really. Feel free to concoct your own ideas.

Disclaimer- I do not own PotC tCotBP.

Dedicated to nekohebi- my own little dark angel. Do I love her? Hell yes.

WARNING: This also goes out to those reading Fallen, I am in Spain from the 1st August to the 15th August, with no Internet access. Many apologies, I will try to update ASAP.

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It was early evening. In the high society houses of Port Royal, the high society lords and the high society ladies were getting down to that most serious business of polite conversation over starters. In the inns and taverns, that drinking had begun in earnest, but no one was singing and dancing on the tables yet. In the Governor's mansion, a certain Miss Elizabeth Swann was sitting in her room musing dreamily on her unofficially betrothed. In the smithy at the centre of the town, said unofficial betrothed was beating out a red-hot strip of metal to be used in the construction of new cell doors for the prison.

Will Turner, blacksmith, was not expecting any callers. Which was why he did not notice the polite knock at the door of his master's shoppe- the aforementioned Mr Brown was sleeping off his usual daily dose of liquor in his usual chair. It was only when the polite knock became a heavy handed thump on the timber that the young blacksmith heard. He hastily placed the metal safely to the side, dropped his tongs on the anvil and rubbed a rag over his hands and his features in an attempt to make himself presentable. He grabbed his brown coat as another thump reverberated throughout the smithy, trying to fathom out the purpose of a visit so late in the working day.

He ran to the door and opened it, mumbling apologies to his guest. The tall lean form of Commodore Norrington met his eyes. He dipped his head respectfully to the protector of Port Royal and gestured for him to enter. The Naval man stepped inside the warm smithy, removing his feathered tricorn as he did so. Will quietly closed the door and turned to Norrington. "Good evening, Commodore. How might I assist you? I fear my master is too weary to provide his normal standard of service."

"I would think not. When it is you who produces much of his finest work," the Commodore replied, his rich blue velvet voice containing a hint of disapproving sarcasm.

Will opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a wave of Norrington's hand. "I apologise, Mr Turner. That did not need to be said."

The two men stood in silence for a moment, both aware of the tension between them. Will was unsure of this man who was –still could be, his mind shrieked- his rival for Miss…Elizabeth's affections. Despite his words on the ramparts of the fort that day, Will didn't entirely trust that Norrington would give up this particular hunt so easily.

Norrington sighed suddenly and placed his hat on the table in the corner of the room, his sea-mirror eyes weary. "May I speak frankly to you, Mr Turner? I do not wish to offend you, but there are things I feel I must say."

Will hesitated, then replied. "Of course, Commodore. Speak your mind."

Norrington nodded his thanks then turned his head to stare pensively at the mechanism that dominated the room. "I will not deny that my feelings towards you are not the most warm. Despite this, I wish you to know that I bear you no ill will for what has happened and I wish no harm on either you or Miss Swann. You love each other, and I am no man to deny your love."

"Thank you."

"However, the rumours and gossip flying around Port Royal suggest that, contrary to my true feelings on the matter, I am set to hunt you down and murder you both bloodily and horribly, or in some other way exact a terrible revenge. In normal circumstances, such idle talk would not bother me, but I have heard other slanderous accusations against yourself and Miss Swann which suggest some sort of sordid affair between the three of us." The Commodore paused, shaking his head distastefully. Will's eyes were huge; he had no idea how vicious the gossips could be. Or how maligning.

Norrington began speaking again, turning to face Will. This time his words were more deliberate, as is he was giving each a careful consideration. "I suggest, Mr Turner, that we take action against these accusations in such a way that we challenge them in public, let nothing be hidden. Would you agree?"

A memory flashed behind Will's eyes of a similar event. _Do we have an accord?_ He smiled wryly to himself. "Yes, Commodore, I would agree. Such talk should not be left to fester and spread."

A brief smile flashed across Norrington's face. "I believe you have exactly summarised my feelings on the matter. We must show them once and for all the…truth of the matter. And as for the method," Norrington's eyes flicked back to the sabre rack. "I suggest an unorthodox solution."

Will followed his gaze, wondering at the hesitant use of the word 'truth.'

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Will pulled on his best brown coat and took a deep breath, smoothing down his best suit of clothes. He strode to the door and opened it, hurriedly making his way to the town square, squinting slightly in the Caribbean sun. It had been a week since his meeting with Commodore Norrington and word had quickly spread of the 'unorthodox solution' that they had planned. Hounded by inquisitive locals demanding answers and explanations, he had resorted to keeping the doors to the forge and his home locked at all times, only admitting those whom he recognised as 'non-gossips' and customers. And now, the reckoning came. Time to lay the rumours to rest.

A large group of people had already gathered at the appointed place, all chattering about the events to come no doubt. Even the Governor's carriage was present, with a very worried looking Governor Swann and daughter sat inside it. As she caught sight of him Elizabeth's face lit up and she waved. Her smile, however, was decidedly nervous and she looked exceedingly tense. Will smiled back at her warmly then began to fuss with the hilt of his favourite sabre, whose sheath was buckled to his belt.

A parting of the crowd indicated the arrival of Commodore Norrington, resplendent in his Naval uniform. Lieutenants Gillette and Groves accompanied him. He strode into the centre of the square and nodded at Will in greeting. Will returned the greeting in kind. The people around them had gone quiet, waiting expectantly. Governor Swann and Elizabeth both stepped out of the carriage to view the exchange between the two men.

Norrington broke the silence. "Mr Turner, you and I know why we are both here. But alas, our spectators do not." There again, that dry biting sarcasm. Will desperately tried to keep a straight face as he watched several of the people in the crowd shift on their feet sheepishly.

"We are here today to settle a score. We have been rivals for the love of one woman…" here Norrington's eyes strayed to Elizabeth. "…for too long. It is time to resolve the matter as one man to another. I met with Mr Turner a week ago and challenged him to a duel for Miss Swann's hand in marriage."

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I know, evil cliffy. But please, tell me your thoughts on it so far and thank you for reading. 


	2. Shall we dance, you and I?

Back from Spain, I continue with my tale. I thank these wonderful people- MudGuppy, Raphe1 (don't send Rayark after me!), ellennar (thanks for defending me!), Sheep, Jack E (don't worry, I love Norrington-baby and the plan behind the duel will be revealed soon!), nekohebi (I LOVE YOU! HOW WAS FRANCE?!), Araminta Ditch, Erisinia- for reviewing.

Disclaimer- I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. However, Commodore Norirngton is currently locked in my closet and I have been enjoying teaching him about 21st century technology. Like showers. Ahem.

Read on!

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"We are here today to settle a score. We have been rivals for the love of one woman…" here Norrington's eyes strayed to Elizabeth. "…for too long. It is time to resolve the matter as one man to another. I met with Mr Turner a week ago and challenged him to a duel for Miss Swann's hand in marriage."

The crowd, including Norrington's lieutenants, gasped collectively. The word 'duel' had shocked them. They had not expected violence- they had expected words and paper and ink but not steel and swordplay. Elizabeth was as tense as a cat before a pounce. Silently the blacksmith willed his love to remain calm and still- the plan could not be spoiled.

Norrington turned to Will to stare him in the eye. Will met his gaze and nodded imperceptibly. Only they two would know the truth of the matter. They would fight this duel in earnest, but not for the reasons Norrington had stated. This was a private matter between them- a settling of scores as well as the putting to rest of rumours. It had nothing to do with Elizabeth's marriage. Norrington had already made it clear that he would not stand between them and their love. This was something deeper, something that they both needed. Who was the better man?

Will held out his hand and Norrington shook it. Then they stepped apart to prepare for the fight ahead. Will removed his brown outer coat and rolled up his sleeve, mentally preparing himself for the duel. He might practice three hours a day, but Norrington relied on his blade skills to save his life in a heated fight whilst still giving orders and thinking about the safety of his men and his ship. Will's reflexes and strategies were excellent, he knew he was amongst the best, but so was Norrington. Their adventure with the undead pirates and his clash with Jack had opened Will's eyes to the harsh realities that Norrington faced on a regular basis on the high seas. This man was a battle-hardened sailor in His Majesty's service. But the fight should be a fine test for him and would give them both the satisfaction they needed.

He gripped the hilt of his sabre. It was sister to the high-quality blade that hung at Norrington's side. Suddenly remembering this fact, he glanced at his opponent. Norrington had already removed his dark blue uniform coat and hat and passed them to Gillette. He was also in the process of unbuttoning his brocaded waistcoat. Quickly and methodically all traces of the Naval finery were removed until Norrington stood in his shirt, breeches, wig, stockings and shoes. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled off the white wig, revealing dark brown hair gathered into a queue at the back of Norrington's neck. He handed it, along with his other belongings to Gillette and Groves and nodded his thanks. He took in their concerned faces and quirked a quick grin.

So this was the man behind the uniform. It seemed he was human, after all. Will studied his duelling partner carefully. With that uniform removed, Norrington looked like just another man- young, flawed and vulnerable. He suddenly realised why the Commodore was so stern and grave. The man was only thirty, a mere child in the eyes of others in the Navy- without his stony façade and strict discipline he would not have the respect he needed from his men to command them. Something of it struck a chord within him- Norrington was not much older than himself and hundreds of people depended on him. To have that responsibility, that pressure. To have to be two people- the Commodore and the man. Could he, Will, leave himself behind every morning and step into a different persona? He doubted it.

Will shook himself out of his thoughts. He needed to concentrate. Now, Norrington was just an opponent, a challenge, something to fight. He drew his sword at the same time as Norrington. The two men faced each other and bowed, as courtesy demanded. They both took their stances, swords held ready. Will decided to make the first move, testing his partner's reflexes with a swift lunge. Norrington deflected easily and followed through with a slashing motion. Their blades met again with a clash and so it began.

The duel was fast and furious. The two swords were whirling silver blurs, seeming to be extensions of the men's arms, neither giving the other any quarter. Every move made by either man was countered and returned at lightning speed. Will was impressed but not surprised. He sensed that Norrington was enjoying the chance to put his skills to the test with no thought for anything around him. Neither of them paid any attention to their slowly growing audience.

Will focused on quick, sharp attacks and keeping defence to a minimum, defending himself with as little force as possible. Norrington was a strong man and his tall lean frame was taut with muscle. If push came to shove, Will would need all of his strength to combat Norrington's natural advantage.

In a sudden movement, Norrington's sword breached Will's defences. Automatically, the blacksmith brought up his own sword to counter the move. Their blades locked, pulling the combatants together, each straining to gain the upper hand. Will's jaw tensed. This was the stalemate he had hoped to avoid. He couldn't afford to allow the duel to become a match of strength. He flicked his wrist and pulled, hoping to disentangle his blade and attack before Norrington noticed. It didn't work- the Naval man reflexively moved his own blade to keep them locked together. He glanced up to his opponent's face, scant inches from his own. He saw tempest-strewn eyes flicker to the blades and then a flash of green fire within them. The taller man made a swift powerful movement, a twist and a shove that disentangled the swords and sent Will staggering backwards.

Caught by surprise, the young blacksmith barely brought his sabre up in time to parry the Commodore's follow through backswing. Norrington made a split-second examination of Will's situation and in a single swift movement, sent Will's sword spinning across the floor towards the crowd. People cried out in fear and surprise, leaping out of the way. Will shivered involuntarily as the cold steel of Norrington's blade ghosted across the side of his throat. Around them, the crowd gasped, some in fear, some in anticipation of a bloodletting. Out of the corner of his eyes, Will could see Elizabeth throw her hands up over her mouth, her beautiful eyes full of shock and fear.

The Commodore's stare burned searchingly into Will's eyes. The blacksmith could feel the intensity of emotion shown in those normally inexpressive eyes. The blade at his throat quivered, just for a moment, then was pulled away. Norrington deliberately sheathed it and stepped back. He bowed again, then spoke so the spectators could hear him. "I see no purpose in our continued struggle, Mr Turner. I would not have your life, or your honour. May you and your lady be happy and at peace." Again, Norrington leaned forwards. "Our point has been made, Mr Turner. Look after her, I beg you."

With that, Norrington turned to he lieutenants and donned the rest of his uniform, pointedly ignoring the looks of the crowd. He settled his hat on his head and started to leave. Will, his limbs suddenly unfrozen, called after him. "Commodore Norrington!" The man turned back to look at him. "Thank you." No more was needed. The earnest tone of his voice was enough. He bowed and Norrington acknowledged the gesture by tipping his hat slightly. The Commodore and his friends and officers walked along the street in the direction of the fort.

Elizabeth ran towards Will as the crowd dispersed, her face full of worry. "Will, oh, are you alright?"

He nodded and pulled her into an embrace. "He wouldn't have hurt me."

"I know," she said pulling back to examine his sweat-beaded features. "But I am allowed to worry about my fiancé, am I not?"

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This is NOT the end. There is one more chapter, beloved readers. Just one more. Thank you for reading. 


	3. The Hunt

Thank you to all of my reviewers: Angela, ellennar, MudGuppy, Rennie1265, llwyngronw, Jack E, LadyBush (x2) and Eledhwen.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.

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A week. A week since the duel. James Norrington sat at the desk in his study, staring unseeingly at the paperwork in front of him. What in God's names had he been doing? What had he been thinking? What point was he trying to prove? That he, a Naval officer, could defeat a blacksmith, a bloody BLACKSMITH, at swordplay? He groaned and buried his face in his hands. Well, at least the gossip had stopped, and there was a new understanding between himself and the man who had been his rival. But that did not mean that he, an officer and a gentleman, had not challenged one of those under his protection. Officers and gentlemen did not challenge blacksmiths who were engaged to their ex-betrothed to duels.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He hastily shuffled through some of his papers to make his desk look more orderly and brushed off his uniform. "Come."

A maid entered and bobbed a curtsey. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but a Mr Turner requests that he see you in private."

"Thank you Mary. Please send him up."

As the maid closed the door behind her, James fell to pondering- what was the purpose of Mr Turner's visit, he wondered. It would clearly be something to do with their duel, but what? The gossips were silenced, the betrothal party was planned, he was invited and their differences were laid to rest. Unless his guest had some other grievance he wished to discuss. James straightened in his chair and schooled his features into his usual stern mask. Whatever it was, he would appear as the Commodore to the young blacksmith- it would not do to be thought of as human, he thought wryly.

William Turner entered the room, having knocked to announce his presence, and walked to stand in front of James, shuffling his feet nervously. James surveyed him for a moment and then gestured him to a chair. "Welcome, Mr Turner. May I get you a drink?"

The blacksmith shook his head and muttered a polite refusal. James continued to sit silently and watch his guest-not strictly the most courteous thing to do- guessing that whatever was on the younger man's mind would surface soon enough. It did.

"Commodore," Will began, avoiding James' gaze. "I would like to thank you for your gracious actions of a week ago."

James opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it and kept his quiet.

Will continued. "However, that is not the sole purpose of my visit. You have given Elizabeth and I a great gift by conceding the fight- even though our purpose was not to win the lady's hand. You have kept your word to us and given us the chance to be truly happy. But, there is something I do not understand- at the end of our duel, you could so easily have slain me and taken Elizabeth as your own. What stayed your hand?"

James was taken aback- the younger man's earnest words were entirely unexpected. Of all things, he had not thought to hear the gratitude and honest confusion that he now heard in Will's voice. "Mr Turner-" he began.

"Will," the blacksmith interrupted.

James paused for a moment, surprised, then nodded. "Of course, Will. As to your answer…" James stood and walked to one of the many windows and looked out at the sea crashing against the cliff, thinking carefully about his response. He realised that Will needed reassurance and a final answer to questions that had been plaguing him. He decided to let his mask of cold indifference slip and once again show the blacksmith the man behind the uniform. He prepared himself for his heartfelt response.

"Everyday, the waves smash against the cliff, with all of Nature's raw fury, and slowly they wear away at the rock, slowly grinding them and pushing them back. No doubt it will take many hundreds of years for even such a powerful force as the sea to conquer the rock. If I had killed you and taken Miss Swann for my own, her lost love and heartbreak over you would make her as cold and impenetrable as the earth upon which this fortress stands, and my feelings for her would be as impotent as the sea, wearing her away to nothing. That, Will, is your answer."

Will sat for a moment, astounded by the passion and poetry of the Commodore's words. "But what is there for you, to reward your selfless actions and your suffering?"

"For me?" James said quietly. He turned back to gaze again at the sea and smiled as he caught sight of a black speck in the distance, tauntingly just out of reach. He glanced at Will and beckoned to the blacksmith. When the young man joined him he pointed out of the window at the dark shape. "For me, there is always the hunt."

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The Duel is over. Thank you for reading. 


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